Look to the Cross

Rudy, our host at the CCS office in Ayacucho, Peru, where I volunteered in 2009, explained that many cities in Peru (perhaps throughout South America and even the world for all I know) will have a cross placed on a hill high above the city. Being a predominantly Catholic nation, people in Peru will look to the cross for strength and support.

Isn’t that something that everyone should get into the habit of doing? Whether you have a cross above your city, one hanging on the wall in your house or only the vision of a cross you carry in your head and your heart, look to the cross and remember what it means.

It means that our loving Father in heaven sent His Son to die on that cross so that we don’t have to. No matter what we are facing today, turn towards the cross and turn towards our Savior.

As for me, may I never boast about anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. Because of that cross, my interest in this world has been crucified, and the world’s interest in me has also died. Galatians 6:14 New Living Translation (NLT)

From the city plaza in Ayacucho, you can see the cross high on a hill.

One day, we took a ride into the Andes Mountains. Can you see the cross

in the lower left side of the picture? Don't know which town this was.

The Street Children

Tuesday morning of my stay in Ayacucho the placement where we worked was called the street children. Not the most appropriate name, I thought, but that’s what CCS called it and I couldn’t come up with anything better.

Adjacent to one of the city’s huge farmers’ markets, there is a simple building set up as a sort of drop-off center for kids whose parents are working in the market. The boys and girls go to work in the morning with their parents, work at their stall for a while, and then when they need a break, they walk over to the center to hang out, play with other kids or work on their homework. A lot of the schools were on break due to the Semana Santa (Easter) celebrations, so there were more kids at the center than usual.

Tina, Meg, Gayle and I brought out a deck of Uno cards and played game after game with the youngsters. It helped us all learn our numbers and colors, I’ll tell you that. We also drew pictures with them and they would point to the pictures and tell us the name in Spanish.

Tina and Angelina playing Uno with the kids. It helped us a lot with our Spanish.

Just as we were leaving for the morning, two little girls, ages six and seven, came walking in. They were so adorable, just beautiful lambs and so friendly and happy. They hugged us foreigners as if we were all old friends. When we left the center, we walked through the market place to see what it was like and ran into the two little lambs at their father’s stall. And got more hugs.

It was a happy morning, filled with lots of laughter and silliness.

A tour of Ayacucho

Cross Cultural Solutions, the organization I traveled to Peru with in 2009, set up most volunteer placements so that you worked in the mornings and in the afternoon you learned about the culture of the country. The first afternoon following our first placement, Rudy, the director of the Ayacucho location, took us on a tour of the city. Just a breathtakingly beautiful city. In these pictures anyway. Not all views looked like this, as I will share in upcoming days.

The absolutely beautiful town square (minus the porti-potty)

Maybe we need a few signs that say "no bull" back home

A fairly typical side street

View of Ayacucho, surrounded by the Andes Mountains

A nursing home is still a nursing home

Cross Cultural Solutions, the organization that I traveled to Peru with in 2009, offers several different volunteer options, ranging in duration from one week up to three months. Volunteers who are staying for a longer period of time are assigned to an area in which they are interested and their daily volunteer work concentrates on that, such as health care or teaching. Since our little group of four was only staying for one week we had the unique opportunity to experience a little bit of everything, by going to a different volunteer placement each day.

Our first day, we were assigned to the nursing home. It was a clean and efficient facility, men and women on completely separate wings. We worked on the women’s wing and when we arrived, they were all dressed and out in the courtyard for the morning. Just like the nursing homes back home, they were pretty much left to themselves until lunch. And if we hadn’t been there to try to entertain them, well, they would have had no entertainment. We played catch with them, colored with them and even danced with a few who were agile enough. One little lamb, carrying a plastic bag full of her stuff, told the staff worker who had brought us from our home base that she was waiting for the bus to take her to Lima. Sounded just like some of the nursing home residents I know.

And they were all so cute. And short. I don’t think any of them was over four foot ten. The native dress of the Peruvian women is multiple skirts and sweaters. And let me tell you, these ladies were layered up. They all wore hats too. Not just these women, but most of the older population who were out in the streets. Such a different culture.

For the next several weeks, I am going to be writing about my volunteer trip to Ayacucho, Peru, in 2009, so I am hoping to tie my Sunday inspirational blog to that, each and every week until I have finished the story of those travels. Let’s see how I do.

Ayacucho, Peru, high in the Andes Mountains, is known as the city of churches. It is said that there are 33 churches in this town, one for each year of Christ’s life. Odd that no one seems to know exactly how many churches there are. Is that because no one knows exactly how to define a church? Does it have to have an active congregation with regular services? Does it have to have a certain architecture, does it have to “look” like a church?

Actually, as cool as these old buildings are, they are just buildings. A church may be just a building, but The Church is what is important. The Church can be anywhere, anywhere that believers are gathered. The Church is what we each carry with us in our daily lives. For you see, The Church is the Body of Christ.

And the church is his body; it is made full and complete by Christ, who fills all things everywhere with himself. Ephesians 1:23New Living Translation

Doesn't take much to make me feel at home

I was exhausted. I had been up since four am on Saturday, April 11, 2009. It was now nine in the morning on Sunday, and I hadn’t lain down anywhere in that time and had only caught a few minutes sleep on the plane from Atlanta to Lima. But I was finally there, the home-base for Cross Cultural Solutions in Ayacucho, Peru. A simple but clean three-story building on a noisy street corner. My home for the next week.

Inside and up one flight of stairs were familiar faces. Megan, Gayle and Tina, my partners for the week, all who had arrived the day before. We had met each other via the internet and swapped pictures and experiences. It was like I had known them all along. Most importantly, English was their first language!

We had a quick orientation, then I went to my room to unpack, take a short nap and what would be my only hot shower the whole time I was there. Lunch that noon – and most days – was chicken in tomato paste with rice and mixed vegetables.

That afternoon, Gayle and I walked up to the Plaza. What a beautiful city square, full of shops, churches, statues of famous people and fantastic views of the surrounding hills. And only a five minute walk from our home base. We walked here at least once a day, so many pictures of that will be coming.

That evening however, still exhausted, fighting a headache and feeling the effects of the high altitude, I wanted to lay low and go to bed early. That would not happen. Instead I went down to the kitchen to socialize.

Including the four of us who had just arrived, there were three students who had been staying at the home base for a while already. Harriet, Angelina and Harry. They had decided to make cookies that afternoon. It was Easter Sunday and so the logical shape – and easy – to make was round, in the shape of Easter eggs. Then we all decorated them. Colors for frosting were limited, but we managed.

I felt like I had come home.

What Have I Gotten Myself Into?

Have you seen the original “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”. One of my favorite movies. Remember when Butch and Sundance get off the train in Bolivia. This was Butch’s big idea; he had told his partner what a wonderful place Bolivia was, streets made of gold, a land of milk and honey, easy pickings. But when they arrived, when their train stopped and they disembarked, they weren’t met with any diamonds or jewels. They were met by pigs and chickens, dust and squalor.

When I got off the plane in Ayacucho, Peru, in April 2009, that scene flashed through mind. I don’t remember seeing pigs or chickens, but everywhere there was dust. The airport was a small structure, like a shed where someone would store their tractor instead of a building to greet newcomers.

Inside it wasn’t so bad. It was brightly lit and modern and no one spoke English. And because my flight had been two hours late leaving Lima, I was worried that my ride wasn’t there.

I waited patiently for my luggage, focusing on the simple baggage handling system, sneaking peeks at other people without being obvious, listening for a familiar word. I grabbed my suitcase, my lone suitcase which had to weigh in at under 25 pounds due to the small size of the plane I had just exited. Worst case scenario, I could spend the week in the airport because now I at least had my stuff.

Against one wall was a tourism kiosk, a cute little counter with an awning of palm leaves. The woman working there didn’t know English, didn’t recognize the words “Cross Cultural Solutions”. You would think that the organization had people coming and going on a somewhat regular basis and that the airport personnel would have heard of them. I clutched my backpack to my chest with one hand, my other hand gripping my suitcase handle.

“Excuse me, maybe your ride is waiting outside.” Oh, my gosh, was I hearing things? I turned to face a man dressed in business casual. He nodded toward the doors. Out the window, I could just make out the side of a white van.

“Thank you,” I stammered, “Thank you so much. That must be my ride.”

And sure enough. I walked outside and the van driver hoisted a hand written sign announcing “Cross Cultural Solutions”.

A young man introduced himself (and I promptly forgot his name) and his father, the driver. The boy was home from college on break and was anxious to practice his English. Interesting. And I only wanted to practice my Spanish on him.